#implied whump

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

amnesia as a trauma response has the potential to be so fucking funny because imagine you just spent like 6 months breaking Whumpee down piece by piece, stripping them of their rights, destroying their mind and body with scars that will never heal, relishing in the irrevocable damage done by your hand even after they've been rescued

and then you run into them at a grocery store and they're like "oh hey (: sorry didn't see you there ((((: no i have no idea who you are but you're blocking the shelf i need to look at"

my ass would be humbled so goddamn fast. i would be shinji gripping the sink sobbing in the mirror because Whumpee basically just called me cringe. my brilliant torturing apparently meant fuckall and i'm not even worth the time of day. they'd probably misspell my name on a starbucks cup. whumper turned whumpee because how do i recover from that. what the fuck.

[inkwell-and-dagger]

living weapon whumpees who, during the first few months of recovery with caretaker, are foreign to the concept of comfort‼️‼️‼️

have them flinching away from caretaker's soft touch because they believe they don't deserve it‼️‼️‼️

have a caretaker gently massage living weapon whumpee's shoulders, soothing words further adding to whumpee's overall confusion before they eventually lean into caretaker's warm touch‼️‼️‼️

have caretaker's soft words and hands holding whumpee's face snap them out of their conditioning after something / someone accidentally triggered them, startled at first before recognizing that, caretaker wasn't a threat, they were safe with them and that whumper wasn't here anymore ‼️‼️‼️

[dinkflocculent]

Contents - recovery whump, implied whump, traumatized whumpee 

“Do you need anything?”

Whumpee stayed motionless in the corner of the room. Staring at one spot on the ground as if caretaker didn’t say anything. It hasn’t been long since the team rescued them, and they haven’t said a word or looked into any of the teammate’s eyes. Obeying whatever they tell them to do. Whumpee, once with a joyful and talkative personality, was now controlled and silent.

“I promise no one here is going to hurt you,” caretaker continued. That sense of dread building up inside them, seeing whumpee in such a state. “We… We want to help you, whumpee; please, say something…”

Seeing it as a command, whumpee opens their mouth to speak. Instead, a whimpering noise before rolling into a shaky ball and sobbing. All that built up emotion and trauma come spilling out in an ugly mess. It was too much. They wanted it to stop.

Whumpee felt the warm, secure embrace of caretaker's hug. Immediately burying their head inside their chest and sobbing even harder. Caretaker hushed in their ear, making the hug snugger. Seeing whumpee let out such a dire cry... Caretaker will rip whumper apart.

"Shh... It's alright; let it all out. You're never going back to them ever again," caretaker took a determined breath. "I promise you."

Whumpee sniffled, wiping snot away from their nose. Looking up at caretaker--not breaking eye contact this time. Caretaker made sure not to make any sudden movements or noises. It could frighten whumpee away from them again.

"Thank you," whumpee whispered, letting out a small, genuine smile.

[serene-cinders]

A Caretaker adopting a pet Whumpee from a shelter out of pity. Whumpee’s been abused. Maybe they can’t, or won’t speak, so their pain is a mystery, but it shows in their empty eyes, maimed form, scars running criss-cross all over.

Maybe Whumpee’s on the older side. Maybe they’re not conventionally attractive. They’ve been abandoned by the world, they’ve been at the shelter for years, and they’re slowly succumbing. Dying.

Caretaker never agreed with this ‘human pet’ business. They find it despicable, and wouldn’t support it. But… that wretched husk, so rigorously broken down, brings tears to their eyes. And they can’t bare the thought of somebody dying alone in this unfeeling, underfunded shit hole.

So, Caretaker makes the choice to give them the kindest few weeks of their life.

[p3achj3llyf1sh]

a drabble of some angst (?) I’ve been planning. the AU does NOT start happy. I got too silly.

i just threw up on the paper kinda. I’m better at writing out scenes rather than comicing them. storyboards it maybe the best i cand so, aside from some messy stuff like this.

[whispers-whump]

“I want him there clean, sober, and alive.”

“Is that in order of importance?”

[rinkje]

Title: Young Man Sleeping

Artist: William Dobell

Year: 1935

Medium: oil on cardboard

Sources:

[auroragehenna]

Whump drabble

CW/TW: Hero whumpee, touchy whumper (SFW), reckless behavior, messed up dynamics, implied further whump Word count: 277

Hero stumbled up the steps of the stairs, barely holding on. He just needed to reach the doorbell. He had to-

The sharp ring of the doorbell overtuned his pained groans. Footsteps sounded from the other side of the the door and shortly after it swung open. Revealing an all too familiar woman standing in the doorway, inspecting him through cold eyes.

„I-Didn‘t know where else to go-“, hero groaned out, finally collapsing.

„Aww. No of course you didn‘t.“-The woman crouches down, clasping hero’s jaw and lifting his weak head. You must have been oh so truly desperate to come to me.“ She smiles, nails now digging into the others skin. She stands up, forcing him to follow her up and stand on shaky, weak legs. The woman's hand moving from hero's jaw to his throat. Squeezing but not really cutting off the airflow. Yet. „And you always fight with a devil may care attitude against Supervillain and the other villains. Always swinging because you know they're not the scariest thing that's out there. And yet“-she catches the hero's wrist-„You come crawling back to me. Injured, scared and alone. You're so perfect, little hero. Now let's get you inside, I should take care of those wounds before I do anything else, don't you think?“ Her hand slips off their throat, finally allowing him to draw a full breath again. Fingers travelling down his collarbone, over his shoulder and down his bare arm and she can feel him shudder under her touch as she pulls him inside, closing the door. She turns the key in the lock and then pulls it out, letting it dissapear into a pocket.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @bisexuawolfsalt, @greatkittencloud, @shattermind-8

[hebuiltfive]

WIP WEDNESDAY !!!

I'm starting to think that my multi-chaptered fics I have planned/started posting will only be posted from here on out once all the story has been written. Writing and posting chapter to chapter has been super stressful, so to alleviate that it might be a while before I post any chapters to any of my longer stories. Sorry about that!

But for the time being, here's a little Gordon v Hood. This story has been my happy place, even if this short snippet is anything but happy. Mild warnings for implied whump; it's not described in detail in this segment but just a heads up!

--------------------------------------

The figure by the window, a little less shadowy now Gordon's vision was starting to slowly clear, turned around. The loud scraping as Gordon tried and failed to stand had seemingly brought their attention back to him. The figure moved closer, taking the seat to Gordon's right. It didn't seem to matter if Gordon sat at the head of this kitchen table; the figure was to remain firmly in charge.

"Good. You're awake. I must remember to lower the dosage of that sedative. It's been terribly boring waiting for you to come back around."

Gordon knew that voice. It was a voice that haunted his dreams, more so now than ever after his accident. His eyes were still blurry but, after a couple of blinks, he could make out the shiny, bald head and the bright cat-like eyes. He could see the Hood leering and, while Gordon still couldn't remember exact details, he knew whatever situation he'd got himself into this time wasn't a good one.

[littlescaryinternetguy]

"He does not deserve the light, he deserves peace." - Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita The tiny looks out of the window. Their SO has built them a platform so they can see over the sash. The lightning strobes, the thunder tears holes in the air. In the stories, the tiny thinks, the fairy gets trapped outside in the rain and can't fly. But that doesn't make any sense. In thousands of years, some fairy doesn't invent a raincoat? The lights flicker. Blocks away, the brief thumping buzz of a transformer blowing. I was out there. In this. They think, I didn't die. The power goes out. For a few moments, the only light comes from the sky. Then the warm glow of a candle. The tiny looks over their shoulder and sees the enormous ghost of a silhouette behind a candle several times their size bouncing slowly through the air. Hey, the little person calls. Over here. On the windowsill. The candle is set on the table under the window. The tiny looks behind them at the shadow they cast on the screen. Even as big as it is, their lover could swallow it up. They could cover it with one hand. Their lover sits down. Whatcha doing, they say. Watching the storm, says the tiny. They pause. Sometimes I wonder if I died in that storm when you found me. And this is heaven. Their lover's face hangs like a moon, candlelight playing with their features. Their eyes soften. They smile. Bold of you to assume you're going to heaven, they said. You can see why I'd think that though, right? The face recedes. The sound of a sharp exhale, somewhat stifled. When that giant face comes back into view, their eyes shine. They open their mouth to speak, close it again. They nod twice. When the lights come back on, they stand up, cross the room, turn off the lamp, and rejoin their tiny half.

[robin-writing-with-a-bad-hand]

Febuwhump: Day 21

“Unresponsive”

TW: implied violence

Whumper stood in the doorway of Whumpee’s cell, they were still in the same posturing Whumper had left them in last night.

Whumper strode over to Whumpee and kicked them in their side. Just to check they were still alive you know? Nothing. Not even a little whimper as they prodded Whumpee’s broken ribs.

They sniffed disappointedly, they had hoped Whumpee would put up a fight or scream like they had yesterday. A torture session wouldn’t be worth it if Whumpee was unresponsive. They knelt down to Whumpee’s level.

“You’re lucky, you know that?” Again nothing from Whumpee, not even the usual “no I’m not…” or “i hate you, you know that?”. Boring.

They got back up and again and glanced one last time at Whumpee’s pathetic, limp, body before leaving. Whumpee wasn’t fun when they were like this, maybe they’d be more enjoyable tomorrow.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

The Five Stages of Grief

Denial - "This can't be happening" // "I'm going to wake up any minute...it's only a nightmare..." // "None of this real, it can't be!" // "There's been a mistake!" // "They...they wouldn't leave me like this, they'll come rescue me, they will!"

Anger - "You can't do this to me!" // "Fuck you, you fucking psychopath!" // "I don't have to listen to you!" // "You're a goddamn coward!" // "Let me out of here so I can break your neck!" // "You'll be sorry when they come find me, creep!"

Bargaining - "Please, no, anything but that!" // "N-not the cattle prod, please, I'll do whatever you want!" // "No, don't hurt them! Hurt me instead, I can take it!" // "I'll let you touch me however you want just please don't use that!" // "I'll tell you whatever you want if you just let me go!"

Depression - "Do whatever you want, what's the point?" // "I don't think I have anything left to scream for you" // "Just kill me and get it over with" // "Just...just leave me alone..." // "Why are they taking so long to find me? Don't they care? Don't they love me?"

Acceptance - "I knew I deserved this..." // "I'll be good, I promise" // "I love you, too" // "They were never looking for me, were they?" // "Yes, sir/ma'am" // "What do you mean 'leave'? I can't leave, that's against the rules"

[inkwell-and-dagger]

something about a whumpee begging not to be killed.

their voice hoarse from screaming or just with that raspy undertone as they yell, beg, plead for the whumper not to kill them. full of emotion, of raw terror as whumper towers over them with a smile on their face.

alternatively

a whumpee believing caretaker is their new whumper, on their knees begging not to be killed, their raspy tone making caretaker flinch in sympathy. and caretaker, meanwhile, just kinda wanted to tend to whumpee's scraped knee

[dinkflocculent]

I love non-human whumpees so much!

- Horned whumpees that whumper takes advantage of.

- Whumpees that can purr (best for comfort).

- Whumpees who bite when threatened.

- Whumpees who growl in warning.

- Whumpees who have abilities that backfire when in captivity (horns, sensitive body parts, excellent hearing).

- Whumpees whose eyes change color based on emotion (cliche but whumperflies).

Non-human whumpees are great and are my preferred whumpee!! <3

[blackberry-nightingale]

thigh kisses, your choosing 👁️👁️

Thank you for the prompt! Ask from here!

---

Today was a bad day. It was very rare that Mibium called in sick to work, and even rarer for it to be for mental health reasons. But he'd had a really vivid nightmare last night, so bad he woke up shouting, scaring Dayzel next to him. And he just couldn't shake it from his mind.

Dayzel, of course, was worried. He kept looking at Mibium like he was some kind of wounded animal and it only served to worsen his mood. But that didn't stop Dayzel from trying to cheer him up. He even went out to the grocery store to pick up ingredients to make Mibium's favorite dessert. Mibium could appreciate the effort, but felt guilty for worrying his husband so much. He slumped back in his chair and groaned. He was able to take care of himself for so long... Why was it now so difficult?

He sighed and rubbed his thumb over the inside of his thigh. Rubbed over his mark. His thoughts drifted back and he lost touch with the here and now.

"-ibium? You there?" Dayzel's voice came from the doorway, pulling him back to reality.

"Hm? What?" He tensed and looked back as Dayzel stood in the doorway, holding a plate of dessert.

"I asked how long you've been in here with the lights off. I've been busy for quite a while and haven't seen you this whole time." Dayzel walked over, placing the plate on the desk next to Mibium.

"I um... I lost track of time. I-I don't know. Sorry." Mibium's face pinked in embarrassment.

Dayzel frowned. "No need to apologize dear I'm just-" then he noticed where Mibium's hand was, and his frown deepened, "-worried..."

Mibium gave a half-hearted smile and uncomfortably moved his hand. "You- you don't have to. I'm... I'll be fine."

Dayzel sighed, "I know you will. But right now you're not." He thought for a moment before kneeling down between Mibium's legs. He took a few breaths himself, clearly trying not to drift back as well, but reached a hand out to gently touch Mibium's legs and reached down to kiss his thigh.

Mibium tensed, "Dazzle, I love you but I'm really not in the mood right now."

Dayzel nodded, "I know. I'm not - I'm not trying to initiate anything." He gave another kiss. "I'm just -" he took another breath, "- trying to show you you aren't his anymore. Your body is yours. And it's beautiful, and loveable just as is." He kissed over Mibium's mark deliberately.

Mibium seemed to hesitate.

Dayzel paused, worried he'd pushed too far. "Do you want me to stop?"

Mibium paused, thinking it over, before shaking his head. "No-no you can keep going." He tried to relax his shoulders a bit and let his legs slip open a little further.

Dayzel smiled up at him, and it was genuine and earnest. He nodded and began peppering both of his thighs with lots of little kisses.

[krumsprompts]

prompt # 122

“He proposed to me, you know?”

“What? When?”

“A few months back. Had everything planned out too. Apparently he’d been planning to ask me since last year.” They smiled bitterly, swirling the glass in their hand.

Their companion bowed their head silently.